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“Surrey?”
Cassie caught her hand and squeezed it. “We’re going to the Humphreys’ for a fortnight. Had you forgotten?”
The Humphreys. . .
Two weeks in Surrey. Two weeks away from London’s temptations and distractions. Two weeks away from one fascinating rake in particular.
Antonia’s gaze wandered to the window, skittering over the snowy white petals littering the floor. Nicholas Challoner was dangerous and becoming more dangerous every day. If heaven had mercy, by the time they returned, he’d be bored with his absent prey and hunting new quarry.
Fate rescued her from further nocturnal invasions. What a wicked, wicked girl she was. Right now, she didn’t feel especially grateful.
Chapter Six
After several days in the country, Antonia had finally beaten her brief madness into submission. The steady, unexciting routine that had sustained her for ten years resumed, for all that she was in a different house with different people. Cassie too returned to her cheerful self. The feverish edge that marked her activities in London receded.
The house party was composed largely of people Cassie’s age and their families. It was more like the entertainments at Bascombe Hailey. Rural. Innocent. Unsophisticated. Horses. Dogs. Country walks. Games in the evening, then an early bed.
No sizzling threat of danger.
No fiendishly handsome rakes lurking to lure an unwary lady. Or an unwary lady’s wary companion.
Pelham Place was in a pretty corner of Surrey. Wilder than most of this cultivated county, with woods and a river and a wilderness that could almost pass as a moor.
Antonia devoted enjoyable hours to exploring the grounds. Hours when she convinced herself it was acceptable to spare an occasional thought for the disreputable Marquess of Ranelaw and his kisses.
For one brilliant, incendiary moment, she’d been Lady Antonia Hilliard again. With every day that passed, she remembered Lady Antonia was no more, destroyed by her wanton passions. In her place was Miss Smith with too much at stake to gamble her future on a rake’s smile.
Particularly a rake who pursued her merely to facilitate his flirtation with another woman.
Although no matter how she insisted he wanted Cassie, the deepest part of her couldn’t accept that was true.
Surely that was vanity speaking. Vanity and oak-headed foolishness. Cassie was pretty and far from a featherbrain. Any man would be proud to claim her for his own.
Five days after their arrival, she and Cassie crossed the rolling lawns toward Pelham Place. They’d taken a long afternoon walk by the river. The uncertain weather that plagued their London stay had transformed into perfect spring. Antonia had been glad of her chip bonnet, however ugly it was, and she’d scolded Cassie to keep her own, much more attractive hat on. Cassie was inclined to freckle, something Antonia thought charming but which would incur disapproval from the arbiters of fashion.
A group on the terrace turned to observe their approach. Lady Humphrey often served tea outside so the gathering didn’t immediately alert Antonia.
About twenty guests stayed in the house. As she neared the terrace, she realized their numbers had been augmented—and she was familiar with the newcomers, or at least one of them.
“Lord Ranelaw!” Cassie cried breathlessly, swiftly mounting the shallow steps to the terrace.
When Ranelaw swept off his hat to greet Cassie, Antonia saw his face still bore marks of assault. There was bruising around his eye and the graze had healed to an annoyingly dashing slash along one high cheekbone. The injuries only emphasized his attractions.
“Miss Demarest.” Ranelaw took her hand and bent over it. When he glanced at Antonia, standing dismayed behind Cassie, the lids lowered over his eyes. Nothing so crass as a wink.
Horror ripped through her, leaving her giddy. Her hands clenched at her sides and she glared at the reprobate.
God in heaven, help her.
She’d thought she was safe. She was in more danger than ever.
So was Cassie.
Antonia had moved to wrench her overjoyed cousin away from him before she remembered where she was. She bobbed into a brief curtsy edged with insult.
Lady Humphrey stepped forward. “Lord Thorpe has invited some additional gentlemen to join our revels, Miss Demarest. Our quiet evenings should become rather lively.”
Too lively, Antonia thought sourly. She glanced at Cassie and wasn’t surprised the girl showed no astonishment at Ranelaw’s arrival. She understood now why her charge had submitted to rustication with such good grace. She wanted to blast Cassie for being a naïve little fool but most of her rage was targeted at the cocksure marquess.
